


the vilest earth

by Majure



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drug Withdrawal, Drugs, Grief/Mourning, M/M, dave is dead but he sticks around as a ghost so dont worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25345414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majure/pseuds/Majure
Summary: Dave dies. Klaus stays.Vietnam is hard enough with the death of the love of his life. Now Klaus has to deal with his ghost, sobriety, and new powers that keep cropping up.
Relationships: Dave/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 63
Kudos: 156





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> had this idea a few weeks ago and wanted to work on it to take a break from my main fic
> 
> title comes from [this shakespeare quote](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/636944-ill-weaved-ambition-how-much-art-thou-shrunk-when-that-this#:~:text=Quotes%20%3E%20Quotable%20Quote-,%E2%80%9CIll%2Dweaved%20ambition%2C%20how%20much%20art%20thou%20shrunk!,vilest%20earth%20are%20room%20enough%E2%80%9D)

Klaus really had been planning to leave.

As soon as he stops screaming after the corpse of Dave, left behind on the battlefield as a pair of other soldiers drag him back, Klaus decides it. He can't stay here. He can't. The second Klaus feels dried blood crease across his palms as he cradled Dave's dog tags to his chest, he knows. He isn't staying. 

He had stayed in Vietnam for Dave, and now Dave is dead, and there's nothing keeping Klaus tethered to this fucking awful place anymore. He had planned it with the same sort of panicked determination that he'd felt when he'd been escaping Hazel and Cha-Cha all those months ago - don't think about it, just go. Grab the briefcase, disappear, and start a new, post-Dave life with siblings who won't ask questions.

Klaus even gets so far as to grab the briefcase out from under his cot, where it has sat for months, untouched. The blood on his hands leaves sticky smears on the brass buckles as he drops to the floor and pulls the briefcase close to his lap. He isn't alone in this tent, but no one is paying him any attention. Other soldiers are either too focused on their own grief, or Klaus' is so familiar that his tears have faded into the background. 

They probably won't notice he's gone. Klaus never really made much of a difference here, anyway, except to tell shitty jokes and freak people out about ghosts in the moments where he was sober enough to see them. Dave had really been one of the only ones who cared - even the few friends Klaus _has_ made will get on fine without him. Even if they don't, Klaus can't bring himself to care.

It's dim inside the tent, with only a few scattered lanterns here and there, and Klaus feels hidden in his corner. The briefcase and the promise of escape, all rolled neatly into one. The dials are still set to return Klaus to twenty nineteen. For a second, Klaus stops and stares at them. Fifty years is a long time in the future, and Dave... Dave might still be around. Klaus swallows, feeling tears burn in his eyes. One drips onto the back of his hand and cuts a track of clean skin through the blood. 

"Oh, Dave," he whispers, resting his forehead against the leather of the briefcase. "I don't know what to do without you." 

A part of him expects Dave to respond. He waits in silence except for the chatter of war outside the tent and the soft murmur of other soldiers who pay no attention to Klaus sitting curled in his corner. Dave's dog tags are clenched in one hand. Klaus uncurls his fingers, just enough for light to glint off the dull metal. He can barely make out the name KATZ beneath the smears of blood. 

A hand lands heavy on Klaus' shoulder and he jumps, turning his tear stained face up towards Chaz. He'd been one of the soldiers to drag Klaus off the battlefield, but he's also one of the few people Klaus knows who actually gives a shit. 

"Hey," Chaz says lamely. He lowers himself to the dirt, resting his arms across his knees. Klaus wipes his face with the back of his hand and glances away. "How are you feeling?" he asks, then grimaces and looks away. "Nevermind."

"What do you want?" Klaus rasps. There's a knot in his throat that's making it difficult to speak. He hates the way his voice catches. 

"Just want to make sure you're okay." Chaz eyes him warily. His hands scuff together. There's blood on his hands, too. When he'd found Klaus hunched over Dave's body, he had jammed two fingers against Dave's throat, seeking for a pulse while Klaus tried to staunch the flow of blood from Dave's chest. He had probably known going in that he wasn't going to find anything, but it had given Klaus enough time to start saying goodbye. 

"How do you think I'm doing?" Klaus asks dully. He hugs the briefcase up to his chest and buries his nose against it. He can't make his escape in front of Chaz. Sniffing, Klaus wipes his face again. "Can you just go away? I'm not really up to hear you to tell me to look on the bright side." 

"I wasn't going to tell you that." Chaz's face softens. He reaches out to touch Klaus' shoulder. The contact is jarring; Klaus feels fried, and Chaz's hand is an unwelcome anchor. "I came to keep an eye on you." 

"I don't need babysitting." 

"Yes you do." At Klaus' scoff, Chaz continues, "Dave isn't around to keep you from being stupid, so I have to do it for him." 

"Shut up," Klaus snaps, a fresh wave of tears welling up in his eyes. "I didn't ask you do to do that, so just leave me alone." 

"No." Chaz's voice is measured. His hand slips off Klaus' shoulder and he sits back arms crossing. 

Klaus lets his head fall back against the cot, feeling tears streak down his temples. His eyes squeeze shut. "Just let me go," he rasps. "Please let me go." 

"No," Chaz says again. He sits there, watching until Klaus' tears have subsided again, then reaches out to gently pry the briefcase from Klaus' arms. Klaus puts in a token struggle, but he barely manages to cough out the word 'no' before Chaz sets the briefcase aside and wrestles Klaus to his feet. "Stop," he snaps as Klaus jams his elbow in Chaz's ribs. He bites out a breath, then says again, softer, "Stop, Klaus. It's okay."

A quiet sob breaks its way out of Klaus' mouth and he sags, gripping a handful of Chaz's vest. Dave's dog tags bite into the flesh of Klaus' palm, but he ignores the sting. "It's okay," Chaz says again. His hand lands of Klaus' arm, an awkward pat as Klaus cries into the collar of his shirt. 

Chaz maneuvers him back towards the cot Klaus had been sitting slumped against and forces him to sit. "You need some sleep," he says as he sits back down on the ground across from Klaus. The briefcase lies abandoned at their feet - and now, Klaus knows, he isn't using it. He can't. Even if he wanted to, Chaz isn't leaving any time soon. "You'll feel better in the morning." 

"You sure about that?" Klaus asks. 

Chaz only looks at him for a moment. "Get some sleep," he says again, and sits back. 

Sniffing, Klaus lies back. He stares at the darkened slant of the tent ceiling, hands clenched over his heart. The fingers of his right hand twitch as they adjust around the ridges of Dave's dog tags. It still doesn't feel real. It feels like any second, the disorientation will fade and Dave will be right next to him like he always is, and Klaus will feel a little more solid. It feels like if Klaus just closes his eyes, he can feel Dave beside him. For all Klaus knows, he really could be. 

Klaus doesn't sleep. It's not for lack of exhaustion, but nothing stops his thoughts from rattling around inside his head. A headache pounds at the base of his skull to accompany the distant chatter of gunfire, and every time he starts to doze, the memory of Dave's death flashes behind his eyes in a startling replay. Soldiers come in and out, more than half of them nursing wounds of their own. He listens to them whisper prayers of grief for dead friends. Klaus closes his eyes and thinks of one for Dave. 

After a while, Klaus just gives up. 

He uncurls when light starts to creep in through the half open flap of the tent. Chaz is still sitting on the ground, but he's sleeping, chin on his chest and arms still crossed. The briefcase is next to him. Klaus stares at it, half tempted to take it and run, but it feels wrong, somehow. He sighs. Pain lances through Klaus' head as he sits up. He grimaces, lifting one hand to rub at his forehead. Klaus stops, staring at the blood dried on his fingers. It's flaked off in patches. He rubs his fingers together, watching more of it crumble off his skin. Clearing his throat to keep from crying, Klaus reaches for the canteen of water he keeps strapped to his belt. Water splashes across his and Chaz's boots as he pours a stream of it into his right hand.

Chaz jolts awake, sitting up. He relaxes marginally at the sight of Klaus sitting hunched on the edge of the cot. "What are you doing?" 

In his hand, the dog tags gleam, free of blood. Klaus sniffs, bowing his head to slip the chain around his neck. Wiping his wet hands off on his pants, he says, "His blood was still on my hands." 

"Oh." 

It's still crusted around Klaus' fingernails and in the grooves of his knuckles. It'll never come out, not really. The dog tags will never be clean either, but they're all Klaus has left of of Dave now, so he'll have to learn to live with an imperfect reminder. Clearing his throat, Klaus jams his hands in his pockets. He reaches out with the toe of his boot to kick the briefcase back underneath a cot. "Come on," he rasps, turning towards the front of the tent. "If I go out there by myself and get one more pitying look, I'll run screaming into the jungle and let them take me." 

Chaz smiles, but it's more of a grimace, and claps Klaus on the shoulder. "I wouldn't blame you." 

"Yeah," Klaus says. "Me neither."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ghost dave in the next chapter! cross my heart. here's a teaser: 
> 
> Dave glances down at his chest where a wet red stain is visible over his crossed arms. He sighs, one hand smoothing down his chest to hide the wound. “Guess it could be worse,” he says. “Could’ve been my head.” 
> 
> Eyes squeezing shut, Klaus turns his head away as a tear streaks down his face. “Don’t, Dave,” he says. “Don’t do that now.”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave glances down at his chest where a wet red stain is visible over his crossed arms. He sighs, one hand smoothing down his chest to hide the wound. “Guess it could be worse,” he says. “Could’ve been my head.”
> 
> Eyes squeezing shut, Klaus turns his head away as a tear streaks down his face. “Don’t, Dave,” he says. “Don’t do that now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the reception for this has been phenomenal, i'm blown away. thanks so much for being excited for this project.
> 
> as promised, we get to see ghost dave!

The first thing Klaus does is get staggeringly high. It's been over twelve hours since his last dose of _anything_ , and watery figures started taking shape at the edges of his vision hours ago. Some of them he thinks he recognizes - dead soldiers mostly, hovering around his shoulders, but it's hard to tell when their faces look so distorted, like they're standing behind several panes of glass. 

Their whispers aren't quite strong enough to reach him, but it's not for lack of trying. More than once, Klaus finds himself turning towards his murmured name only to spot the face of the ghost who had uttered it. Klaus goes digging in his pockets before he can't stop himself from looking at them too closely, more than terrified of what faces he'll find. Frankly, Klaus is shocked he lasted so long. 

He's done a lot of drugs in his life, but no high has ever felt as good as the complete relief that sweeps him when the ghosts disappear again. No ghosts means no Dave, and no Dave means that Klaus can pretend a little longer, even if he keeps looking at the empty space at his side and blinking back tears he can't seem to stop. 

Chaz sticks by his side. Klaus is grateful, in a bitter kind of way. Chaz keeps Klaus from escaping, but he so desperately doesn't want to be alone that he'll suffer through the feeling of eyes that don't seem to leave him. He keeps his eyes fixed on his feet as Chaz saddles a helmet over his head and pats him roughly on the shoulder. 

"Stay close." He says it almost like a question, so Klaus nods and grabs the back of Chaz's jacket as they start the march towards the trenches. Chaz isn't the only one that's been keeping an eye on him - other soldiers give him the eye as they slip past. Their pitying looks make Klaus shiver. They don't know exactly what he's lost, but Klaus has always worn his heart on his sleeve and his grief is hard to hide. 

"Should he even be here?" a soldier whispers behind Klaus' right shoulder. Klaus' shoulders tense. "Isn't he a bit of a flight risk?" 

Clearing his throat, Klaus lifts his head and glances behind at the soldiers walking rank and file. He plasters on a smile. "Well see," he starts, tugging on Chaz's jacket. "Chaz here needs to keep an eye on me, or he's afraid I might go in the jungle and paint the trees red." 

Chaz's shoulder jerks as he twists around, staring at Klaus out of the corner of his eye. Klaus lets go of his jacket to showcase his empty hands. There's a sidearm tucked in his belt, but that's just because it would be stupid to leave him entirely defenseless. 

"Jesus, Hargreeves, shut up," Chaz mutters. He twists back around, yanking on his collar to resettle his jacket. Klaus can hear the metallic tap-tap of his fingers against the trigger guard of his rifle. 

"Just saying what we're all thinking."

"Well say less." Chaz gives him one last withering stare. Klaus mimes zipping his lips shut and the troops walking rank and file around them fall silent. It's an oppressive silence, filled only with the sound of gunfire ahead and their own footsteps. A hot wind rustles the branches of the trees, tinged with the smell of smoke. For a second, Klaus' palms feel sticky again, and the smell of blood clogs his nose; he squeezes his eyes shut, hands clenching together until his pulse shudders in his palms.

When Klaus opens his eyes, a tear drips down his cheek. He glances to his right once more, a hollow pit in his chest at Dave's absence that just seems to keep growing. Klaus reaches for another pill. 

He barely even notices when the fighting stars around them. Chaz shoves him to the ground, behind the scarred trunk of a tree, and Klaus lies there with his helmet pulled over his eyes, absolutely blissed among the mayhem. He barely even remembers what happens after that - and frankly, he doesn't care to know. Klaus wakes up hours later, lying on a cot in an abandoned tent. Mid-morning daylight filters in through the crack between the closed flaps, but it's still bright enough to make Klaus' head hurt. A bomb whistles by outside, unnervingly close, and he hears shouting from outside. 

Groaning, Klaus sits up. Pain shoots through his shoulder and he winces, glancing down at his chest. A bandage is taped over right shoulder. There's blood soaking through the gauze. He grimaces, prodding at it. "Well damn," Klaus says mildly. 

"I mean I'm not going to say I told you so," says a voice that makes Klaus' heart stop cold in his chest. He freezes, eyes locked to the ground. He watches a shadow trace across the dirt floor, liquid and not quite there. After a moment, Dave continues. "Can you hear me?"

Taking a breath, Klaus runs a hand over his face, ignoring the way it shakes. His shoulder burns, the stitches on his chest twinging as he moves. "Yeah," he rasps, eyes flicking to where Dave is standing in the shadows. He wants to look away just as fast, but... It's _Dave_ standing there, looking just like Klaus remembers. He looks strong. If Klaus doesn't look too close, he might even look alive. Clearing his throat, Klaus says, "Yeah. I can see you, too." 

Dave's face softens. He glances down at his chest where a wet red stain is visible over his crossed arms. He sighs, one hand smoothing down his front to hide the wound. "Guess it could be worse," he murmurs. "Could've been my head." 

Eyes squeezing shut, Klaus turns his head away as a tear streaks down his cheek. His fists curl into the fabric of his pants to mask the tremble. "Don't, Dave," he chokes out. "Don't do that now." 

There's a beat of silence. Dave lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry," he says softly. Klaus keeps his eyes averted, listening to Dave's footsteps as he moves closer. "I know it isn't easy," he whispers once he's beside Klaus, head bowed. One of Dave's hands hovers near Klaus', their fingers nearly brushing. He reaches out and Klaus yanks his hand back, shuddering. He bolts from the cot, arms pressed to his stomach, and turns away from Dave, shoulders hunched. 

"You can't touch me," he snaps out at Dave's wide eyed look of surprise. 

"What?" 

"I mean you - you _can't_." Klaus bites his lip and takes a shuddering breath. Dave stares at him, hand still outstretched. Klaus nearly whimpers. Another tear streaks down his cheek. "You're a ghost," Klaus chokes out. "You're _dead_."

"Are you afraid of me?" Dave whispers, hand dropping to his side. 

"No!" Crying out, Klaus grips a handful of his hair and turns away. Letting out a breath, he says again more softly," No, Dave. I could never be afraid of you. But you're..." he trails off, gesturing. 

Klaus can't explain it. Dave is dead, and Klaus knows this because he'd held him as he bled. Klaus had listened to him choke through his last few breaths and had felt it when he died. But Dave is _here_ , too, standing in the half light and staring at Klaus with tears in his eyes. A cruel part of Klaus' brain is telling him that maybe Dave still is alive, and as long as they don't touch, Klaus will get to live in that fantasy. The second they try to touch each other and Klaus watches Dave's hand phase through his skin, then he won't be able to cling to his feeble hope any longer, and he'll be right back at square one. 

Almost like he knows exactly what Klaus is thinking, Dave clears his throat. He glances away. "I know I'm... dead." One hand lifts again to press over his heart. "But I'm still here. Maybe it's different than before, but I'm still _here_ , Klaus. And you're here, and we're together, even at the end of it all. Doesn't that count for something?" 

Sniffing, Klaus looks up at him. "I want to tell myself you're real," he rasps. 

"I am."

"I want you to be here." 

Dave's face softens. "I want that too," he says quietly. A mournful look passes over his face and he sighs, eyes squeezing shut. Then he holds out his hand. Klaus stares at it for a moment, breath catching in his throat. With a sigh that's more a sob than anything else, Klaus reaches out to take it. 

A familiar static chill runs through Klaus' body as their hands pass through each other. Klaus' fist clenches and he bites back a cry as a blue shimmer ripples through Dave's body. Dave stares at their hands, heartbreak etched across his face. Then he lifts his fingers a little, repositioning until the flat of his hand is face out towards Klaus. Slowly, Klaus uncurls his fingers until their hands press together, but not quite. Klaus' eyes slip closed. 

Rubbing his other hand across one cheek, he says, "I can't do this without you."

Dave offers him a little smile, because it's all he can do. "You don't have to." 

So Klaus takes a deep breath, and then another. His hand drops to his side and he squares his shoulders, fingers curling into fists. "Okay," he says. Some measure of relief follows the word; for the first time in days, his head stops swimming. A chill traces across his cheek as Dave reaches out to touch him. "Okay. Let's figure this out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](https://fanthings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> chapter teaser: 
> 
> “Who the hell are you talking to?” 
> 
> Klaus’ shoulders hunch as he crosses his arms. “Just myself,” he says, glancing at Dave, who spreads his hands and shrugs. 
> 
> Chaz eyes him, unconvinced. “This is like the third time I’ve heard you ‘talking to yourself’,” he says. 
> 
> “Wow Chaz, with the air quotes. No need to get hysterical.”


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a while, but Dave finds him again. He’s just there, one moment, walking alongside Klaus with his hands in his pocket. Klaus halts, staring at him until Dave slows. He looks over his shoulder. “You can see me now?” he asks after a moment. Klaus nods. His throat feels too dry to speak. Lips thinning, Dave glances away. “You look like shit,” he says. 
> 
> Klaus rasps a dry laugh. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Better than you, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i super lied about that teaser last chapter. oops! for sure next time though, this scene just hit me out of nowhere and i had to get it out.
> 
> also about that season 2 huh??? how is everyone loving it? 
> 
> i'd love to add some of the info we got about dave into this fic. so glad we finally have more canon info on him.

Now that Dave is back, it's kind of hard to imagine how Klaus had gone without him at all. Having him around is like learning how to breathe again. Sure, he's a ghost now, but he takes up a place at Klaus' side like he'd never really left. Now when Klaus finds himself looking, Dave is there again with a smile to offer. 

It's shockingly easy to fall back into a rhythm. It's off beat, most of the time, but it's there, and maybe that's what matters more than anything else. Klaus still finds himself reaching for Dave and is left biting back tears when his hand passes through Dave's shoulder. And, sure, Klaus has had a reputation for being weird since the second he dropped into Vietnam, but Dave's death is the pitfall that dumps him right into 'crazy' territory. It's hard to act like nothing's changed. He should be grieving, and he is, will be, forever, but Dave is _here_. Sometimes Klaus finds himself just looking. 

Dave is still so beautiful. There’s a smear of blood down the right side of his face, left there by Klaus’ own trembling hands, but in the daylight with his face turned away, he looks alive. The sun still catches in his hair, and his eyes are still just as blue as they had been when he was alive. Klaus watches him a lot, like he thinks if he glances away for one second then Dave will be gone again.

He looks for inconsistencies, too, like if that curl over his ear had always been there or not. If his eyes had always crinkled at the corners like that. If Klaus had really imagined the way that Dave tilted his head back when he laughed to expose the column of his throat. Not that either of them are doing much laughing, these days. 

The first night Klaus spends after getting Dave back is a rough one. He’s shaking through most of it as bullets whip overhead. Ghosts wail nearby, but most of that is drowned out by the ringing in Klaus’ ears. Dave stays huddled close by, his hands pressed through Klaus’ arms. He still ducks at the whistle of bombs. Klaus would think that was funny, on a different day.

“You’re okay,” Dave whispers to him as Klaus shrinks in on himself, one arm thrown over his head. Klaus can’t actually hear him over the noise of the gunfire, but he can see Dave’s ghastly face lighting up in shades of red as a Claymore explodes somewhere down the line. Klaus’ hands feel sticky again. The smell of blood clogs his nose. Squeezing his eyes shut, Klaus grips Dave’s dog tags in both hands and breathes, ignoring the vision of Dave lying dead beneath him. 

A chill traces down his face and across one arm. It’s not much, but it stands out in the oppressive jungle heat. Klaus sucks in a shaky breath. He reaches for a pocket inside his vest, hands trembling so badly he can barely hold the pills in his palm. Klaus takes them dry and curls up below the sandbags, only letting out a sob when the ghost of Dave’s hand disappears from his skin. 

The fight lasts twelve hours.

It’s midmorning by the time Klaus finds the strength to pull himself to his knees, then another moment to climb to uncertain feet. The battlefield in front of him is scorched, covered in a fine layer of pale grey ash disturbed only by black scorch marks here and there. Only a mile or so in the distance, a section of the jungle still burns below a thick column of greasy black smoke. Soldiers, both living and dead, blend right into the landscape. 

Reaching up, Klaus wipes a hand across his cheek, rubbing soot between his fingers. Sniffing, he wipes his nose with the back of his hand and starts an unsteady walk further into the battlefield. His shoulders are hunched, arms pressed against his stomach. Klaus scrubs at his face with his shoulder. 

It takes a while, but Dave finds him again. He’s just there, one moment, walking alongside Klaus with his hands in his pocket. Klaus halts, staring at him until Dave slows. He looks over his shoulder. “You can see me now?” he asks after a moment. Klaus nods. His throat feels too dry to speak. Lips thinning, Dave glances away. “You look like shit,” he says. 

Klaus rasps a dry laugh. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Better than you, though.” 

Dave’s eyes flick back to him. “Where’d you go?” 

“I never left.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Sighing, Klaus lets his arms drop. He stares at the ground, scratching a line through the ash with the toe of one boot, then drops to the ground. He reaches for the canteen at the small of his back and unscrews it to stall for time. It’s a little less than half full, and taking even a mouthful makes Klaus want to vomit.

“I saw you again,” he says to Dave’s boots, since he can’t look him in the eye. “Dead.” Hitching a shoulder, Klaus shakes his head and runs his fingers through his ashy hair. “Just… couldn’t do it. Not again.” 

“I know,” Dave says. He lowers himself to the ground too. He picks at the laces in his boots. “You don’t have to run away, though.” 

“I don’t want to,” Klaus says honestly. “But I’m pretty good at it, by this point.” 

“Pretty good at deflecting, too,” Dave says, and Klaus cracks a dry smile. 

He starts shucking off his vest, groaning as the collection of aches and pains he’s picked up across ten months in Vietnam all protest at once. He balls the fabric up in his lap shoving hands into pockets and pulling out pill after pill. Dave straights, watching as Klaus collects a handful. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, probably trying and failing not to sound so apprehensive. 

“Taking away my options,” Klaus mutters. He eyes the handful of pills. They’re sooty from the dirt on his hand and half crushed from rattling around in his vest for god knows how long. And still so, so tempting. They’ve taken the pain away better than anything else Klaus has tried. It’s so easy to slip away. He doesn’t even have to try. 

“Klaus.” 

Klaus looks up at Dave, who’s staring at him. There’s sadness in his eyes, and there shouldn’t be, not for Klaus. Taking a breath, Klaus closes his fist around the pills and stands up. He winds his arm back and flings them out into the battlefield, letting out a shaky sigh when it’s done. 

Both of them stare at the horizon for a second. “Well,” Klaus starts. “I guess it doesn’t mean much when the brass is basically peddling drugs to us, but I like to think it’s about the symbolism.” 

“Symbolism is good,” Dave says. He reaches out to touch Klaus’ shoulder. They both ignore it when his hand passes through. “I’m proud of you.” 

“Don’t be.” Klaus grits his teeth, fighting back a wave of nausea that’s swelling in his stomach. He turns to shuffle back towards where he knows the platoon will be camped. “We both know this wagon ride’s going to be a short one. I’d rather you not end up disappointed.” 

“It’s the principle of it, Klaus,” Dave says. “You’re trying. Besides, have I ever been disappointed in you?” 

“Maybe when I stole Corporal Sanger’s wallet to pay for drinks,” Klaus says. 

“Oh, I forgot about that.” Dave laughs. 

“He didn’t.” 

“That was almost a year ago.” 

“Yeah, and he still owes me fifteen dollars.” 

Dave eyes him. “I see you haven’t let go of it, either,” he says. 

Mustering a smile, Klaus says, “An elephant never forgets, Dave.”

His smile turning softer, Dave shakes his head a little. “I love you,” he says, like a footnote. 

Klaus stops. He stares at Dave. Dave with the bullet wound in his chest and the blood soaking his shirt like a badge. He smiles, choosing to ignore the pit of grief opening up in his chest to swallow him whole. “Yeah. I love you too.”He would kiss Dave, if he were alive, but Klaus has to settle for reaching out his hand and feeling a faint static chill trace across his palm, pretending Dave’s hand is really in his.

They walk all the way back that way, hands drifting through each other. It’s almost a plus, Klaus supposes, not having to hide anymore. People will inevitably think he’s a freak for talking to himself or for reaching out to touch the air, but that’s no different to when he’d been high, so Klaus finds that he doesn’t really mind the loss. Dave’s opinion is worth more to him, anyways. 

Dave’s voice echoes back to him. _Proud of you._ It’s not like Klaus didn’t know that. Dave has always been so good to him, and he's never been short of praise. Even if a part of Klaus can't believe that someone could love him so completely, staying sober is quite literally the least Klaus could do for Dave. Guilt burns low in his chest at the knowledge of how close he had come to leaving. If Chaz hadn’t been there to stop him, Klaus would’ve gone - would’ve left Dave behind. Frankly, Klaus isn’t sure if Dave would forgive him for that. He doesn't intend to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's your teaser! for real next time. 
> 
> Glancing sidelong at Dave, Klaus says, “You do know how I love to hear myself talk.” 
> 
> Chaz squints at him a little. “This is like the third time I’ve heard you ‘talking to yourself’,” he says. 
> 
> Forcing a smile, Klaus says, “Wow Chaz, with the air quotes. Don’t get hysterical.”


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glancing sidelong at Dave, Klaus says, “You do know how I love to hear myself talk.”
> 
> Chaz squints at him a little. “This is like the third time I’ve heard you ‘talking to yourself’,” he says.
> 
> Forcing a smile, Klaus says, “Wow Chaz, with the air quotes. Don’t get hysterical.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, making new minor ocs for fics so i'm not reusing the same cast over and over? it's more likely than you think
> 
> sorry about the super long wait between chapters this time! hopefully that doesn't happen again. this chapter is also quite a bit longer though, so you're welcome lol

Sobriety sucks.

And Klaus knows that, obviously. He’s avoided it for almost twenty years. First out of fear, and then just because it was easier than fixing the problem. If he’s not a pro at self medication by now, he never will be, but Klaus never really had to consider just _how much_ it sucks until he’s sitting in wet dirt with his head buried in a bucket, throwing up everything he’s eaten for the past fourteen hours. Admittedly, it’s not much. 

At least Dave is there. Darling Dave, putting up with Klaus and his nightmare retching. He’s been sitting across from Klaus for at least an hour, face pinched as Klaus empties his stomach over and over. He has his nose buried in a book - Klaus has no idea where he’s gotten it, but Ben used to get ahold of things he shouldn’t have all the time, so Klaus has just chalked it up to some ghost thing he doesn’t understand. 

After a moment spent with Klaus’ forehead resting on the rim of the bucket he’s been throwing up into, he hears a page rustle and Dave’s soft voice ask, “How are you feeling?” 

Klaus licks his lips. He stirs a little, scrubbing at the hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. It’s near the middle of the night, and he’s already been up for hours. He’d found some quiet corner tucked between two tents, and it’s private enough for what he needs it for. Exhaustion is burying itself deep inside his bones, but nausea isn’t the only thing keeping him awake. Bombs echo at the front, entirely too close for comfort. Sooner or later, Klaus is going to have to suck it up and get on the move.

Clearing his throat, he rasps, “Don’t exactly feel like I’m on vacation, I can tell you that much.” Klaus runs a hand through his hair and props his elbow against the rim of the bucket. He offers a grim smile. “I'd feel better if I had someone to hold my hair back.”

Dave tucks his book away inside a pocket in his vest. He shuffles closer, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on his crossed arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. 

Klaus laughs a little. “Why?” he asks. “Not like you got me into this mess.” 

“But I can’t be there for you, either.” 

Klaus sighs. He wipes a hand across his forehead, settling back. There’s an itch settling into the base of his skull, crawling across his spine. He takes a shuddering breath, trying to ignore it. “I’m a big boy, Dave,” Klaus says, running a hand across his chest. His fingers catch across the chain of Dave’s dog tags. “It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.” 

A little smile ticks up the corners of Dave’s lips, but it’s not very convincing. He reaches out with one hand to touch Klaus’ ankle. It fizzles, flickering blue. Klaus tries to return Dave’s smile. He stretches, pulling his leg away from Dave’s hand, and climbs unsteadily to his feet. The world spins beneath him and he huffs, squeezing his eyes shut until the tunnel vision fades and the world isn’t tilting beneath his feet. 

Dave stares after him. Sitting on the ground with his knees tucked close to his chest, he looks smaller and more alone than Klaus could’ve ever imagined. Even when he was dying, stretched out in the ash beneath the sandbags, he had looked strong. It had been part of the reason the sight of his blood and the sound of his rattling breaths had been so jarring. Dave always looked solid and alive, until he hadn’t. 

Klaus looks at him now, with blood streaked across his eyebrow. In the half light of army floodlights, his face is cut with shadows. All Klaus can see is a ghost. He wonders if Dave sees it too.

Shivering, Klaus turns away. “Come on,” he says. “I’m sure we can find something more interesting for you to do than watch me throw up.” 

That makes Dave laugh a little. He pushes himself to his feet, trailing after Klaus. “I mean, I’m a ghost,” he starts. “I don’t think you understand how little entertainment I have.” 

They share a grin. It’s moments like these where Klaus can forget. It’s good to have Dave around. Klaus really wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world. He would give up an arm and a leg to see Dave living again, but resurrection is beyond the scope of Klaus’ abilities, so he has to settle for the next best thing. 

Klaus hopes Dave feels the same way. He never asks, but he likes to think that he does. Dave still smiles, after all, and he still looks at Klaus with that fond expression he’d worn when he was still alive. Klaus had once told Dave that if he was going to be so obvious with his feelings, he might as well spell it out in the sky. 

“So,” Klaus asks one evening, sitting in a jeep with his feet kicked up on the dashboard. Dave is on the hood of the car, sitting crosslegged. It’s dark; the only nearby light comes from the butt of the cigarette Klaus has left to smolder on the dashboard, but the stars overhead are bright enough. Bombshells echo in the distance. A section of the horizon is lit up cherry red as the jungle burns, but it’s fine here, for now. “What’s it like being dead?” 

“Shouldn’t you know?”

Klaus pats his chest. “Oh, I didn’t realize I was a ghost.” 

Dave rolls his eyes. “They’re your powers,” he says. “You lived with them for thirty years, didn’t you?” 

Klaus makes a noise. One of his hands tilts this way and that. “I would say tolerated. The only ghost worth my time was Ben, and that’s being generous.” Dave chuckles a little and Klaus adds, “Would you believe it if I said he was the mean one?” 

“No.” Dave grins, leaning back on the hood of the jeep. “But I still like you.” 

“Well good, because you’re stuck with me now,” Klaus shoots back. 

The smile on Dave’s face flickers and falls. He looks down at his chest, fingers playing across the tear in his shirt where the cratered wound is. Klaus hasn’t been able to look at it yet. The memory of it under his hands is fresh enough. Letting his hand fall, Dave looks back up towards the stars. “It’s boring,” he says. “Being dead. But I guess it could be worse.” 

That’s the second time he’s said that. It’s not much of a bright side to look on. Grimacing, Klaus glances away. He sinks down into his seat, head falling back against the headrest. “Sorry,” Klaus murmurs. 

“What do you have to be sorry for? You’re not the one who’s dead.” 

The bitterness in Dave’s voice is jarring. It’s there and gone in a moment; when Klaus looks back over to him, Dave’s shoulders are hunched and his elbows are resting on his knees. He’s never looked so far away before. Klaus wants to reach out to touch him, but his hand falters before the void between them and he sighs softly. 

“Hey, Hargreeves.” 

Klaus looks over to the side, where a soldier is lingering in the shadows. Not Chaz - therefore, not a friend. A cigarette burns between his lips, casting an orange glow down his throat. Klaus can’t make out his face, but he recognizes the voice; he’s a soldier in their platoon who had never really given Klaus the time of day. Carlton, that’s his name. He looks at Klaus oddly now, his face pinched and worried - but not for Klaus. “Who are you talking to?” 

On the hood of the jeep, Dave twists to the side. He rests his chin on his arms, staring out across the dark jungle. Down in the valley, flashes of gunfire pop between the trees. Dave’s fingers tap a matching beat. He doesn’t say anything. 

“Just myself,” Klaus says after a moment. He stretches, hands spread as he kicks his feet higher onto the dashboard. “All my friends are dead, after all.” 

Carlton stares at him a moment longer, eyes lingering in a way that makes Klaus itch. It’s a familiar look. He’s seen it enough times in the faces of strangers who don’t understand. Klaus has always been a spectacle; maybe that’s why he is the way he is. If he can’t stop people from staring, at least maybe he can control it. 

So Klaus stares right back, challenging. Carlton caves first, turning away. “Alright, man,” he says. “Later.” 

Klaus watches him go until he’s certain he’s out of earshot. “You know,” Dave starts softly. “You could tell them.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause I love being called a liar.” Klaus snorts a little. 

“I believed you,” Dave says, sounding almost offended. He’s right, though, but at the time it hadn’t been the most graceful confession. It had come almost immediately after their kiss in the disco. Well - after the aftermath of that kiss, when they’d been lying in bed under a single thin sheet, naked and still intertwined and Dave had whispered, _Tell me something I don’t know about you,_ and Klaus, in all his practice at pushing good things away, had said, _Well, I see dead people._

He can still remember how Dave had blinked, wide eyed. How he had murmured, _Oh._ Still, he had looked at Klaus. He had taken everything in - the funny angles, and the tattoos, Klaus’ too sharp smile, and had never let any of it crawl under his skin. He had been and still remains to be the only person to ever really see Klaus. Now he sits across from Klaus, untouchable. 

Rubbing at his eye, Klaus hitches a shoulder. He forces a little laugh. “You were also sleeping with me, so I’ll call you biased. Don’t think I can get into the platoon’s pants before the tour is up, though.” 

Dave’s shoulders stiffen. “Jesus, Klaus,” he mutters. His hand slides along the back of his neck before he plants his palms on the hood of the jeep and shoves himself off. Klaus watches him. When he’s gone, Klaus turns his face up to the heavens and if he cries, the stars won’t tell anyone. 

Dave comes back. He always comes back, though Klaus doesn’t notice at first because he’s hunkered down below a sandbag with bullets flying over his head, and he’s trying desperately to keep a corporal in their platoon from bleeding out.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Klaus soothes, tying a ratty bandage around the corporal’s thigh as tight as he can manage. It turns red almost instantly. Below them, dirt and ash has mixed with blood to create a sticky slurry that coats Klaus’ legs and soaks into his skin as he kneels over the dying man, trying to put enough pressure on the wound that it stops bleeding. He isn’t successful. For a second, Klaus just has to sit there, fingers buried in the fabric of the dead man’s jacket, listening as his ghost starts screaming. 

“Battlefield medicine doesn’t seem to be my strong suit,” Klaus mutters to himself, scrubbing bloody hands down the front of his shirt. He picks up his gun with one hand, reaching out with his other to close the corpse’s eyes, then turns around and keeps firing. It’s much easier to make ghosts than it is to keep people alive. 

His platoon ends up retreating not too long after that, and Klaus wraps his fingers around the dead corporal’s collar to drag him back to camp. His ghost follows close behind, whispering desperate pleas in Klaus’ ear. 

“Hey, y’know I’m doing you a favor,” Klaus tells him. His gun whacks into his thigh, hanging from it’s harness. “I don’t have to drag your sorry ass another mile down the valley.” 

“You should’ve tried harder,” the ghost hisses, bloodshot eyes filling with tears. 

Klaus huffs. He yanks on his helmet, letting it settle low over his eyes. Overhead, thunder cracks, and rain starts to drip from the sky. Great. “What else is new?” Klaus mutters. 

He’s joined by other soldiers not long after, so Klaus shuts up and just listens as the ghost whispers in his ear. At least he has help now, and doesn’t have to carry a body by himself anymore. God, Klaus wants a drink. He wants drugs. He wants _Dave._

When their meagre camp comes back into sight, Klaus splits from the rest of the soldiers and heads for a tent, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to call Dave towards him. The corporal’s spirit keeps dogged pace. 

“You owe me,” he says, watching as Klaus tosses his gear into a relatively dry corner beneath the tarp. “You couldn’t save me, and you owe me now.” 

“If that were true, I’d owe a lot of people favors.” Klaus barks out a harsh laugh. A spark of static races down his arms and Dave is suddenly beside him, blinking. Klaus sways, feeling lightheaded. 

“If you aren’t here to help, what are you even here for?” the corporal snarls, reaching out for Klaus. Klaus shies away, but then Dave is in front of him, shouldering the ghost off to the side and shoving him away. They stare at each other for a moment. Dave’s shoulders square, and the other ghost slinks off, shoulders hunched. 

“Man,” Dave mutters as the ghost trails out. “Is this what it’s always like for you?” 

“Yeah, what part of drugs making the ghosts go away do you not get?” Dave frowns and Klaus sucks in a breath, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Sorry,” he hisses out in a breath. He drops into a chair, letting his shoulders fall. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m just-” 

“I get it,” Dave interrupts. He hitches a shoulder. “It’s tough. For you.”

Klaus cocks his head, brows furrowing, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply as Chaz sticks his head under the tarp. “Hargreeves?”

Klaus swivels to look at him. “Yeah,” he says, rubbing a shoulder. “What’s up?” 

“Were you talking to someone just now?” Chaz asks, blinking rain out of his eyes. He steps through the tarp into the tent, scrubbing a hand through his wet hair. 

Glancing sidelong at Dave, Klaus says, “You do know how I love to hear myself talk.” 

Chaz squints at him a little. “This is like the third time I’ve heard you ‘talking to yourself’,” he says. 

Forcing a smile, Klaus says, “Wow Chaz, with the air quotes. Don’t get hysterical.” 

“Ha ha,” Chaz bites out, rolling his eyes. He reaches out to clap Klaus’ shoulder. “What’s going on with you, man?” 

“You should tell him,” Dave says. Klaus shoots him a look, trying to shake his head. “He could help you.” 

“Hargreeves?” 

Dragging his eyes away from Dave, Klaus says, “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Why does anything else have to be going on? Fighting a war, watching my best friend die, getting sober in probably the least healthy environment ever. You think I should add more to that, or just let those things work themselves out first?” 

A steely look flashes across Chaz’s face. He crosses his arms. “He was my friend too,” he starts. Klaus doesn’t need to ask who he’s talking about. Beside him, Dave slides his hands through his hair and turns away. “Why won’t you let anyone help you?” 

“Maybe because I don’t need help,” Klaus snaps. “I’m _fine_. I’ve had enough of people acting like I’m helpless; I don’t need you to stick around every second because you feel bad.” 

“That’s not why,” Chaz barks back. He huffs, shoulders squaring. 

“Then why do you care so much?” 

“Maybe because I’m your friend!” Chaz reaches out to stab a finger at Klaus’ chest and Klaus shies away, batting at his hand. “Listen, I get that you’re having a hard time-”

“You don’t have any _fucking_ idea how I feel,” Klaus snarls. His vision spins and he almost stumbles, lightheaded, as he grabs a handful of Chaz’s vest. “The one person I could count on is dead now, and I’m fucking stuck here because you decided that that was the day you wanted to keep an eye on me. You don’t get to tell me how I should feel.”

Panting a little, Klaus uncurls his fingers from Chaz’s vest as Chaz stares at him, eyes hard. “Are you done?” he asks, low and angry. Klaus just turns away. He presses one trembling hand to the dog tags hanging from his neck, shivering as the adrenaline seeps away, leaving him cold. 

After a moment, Chaz leaves. In another breath, so does Dave. Klaus closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> teaser: 
> 
> “Just tell him,” Dave says, sounding like he’s begging. 
> 
> “Why?” Klaus asks, turning to him. “Am I really such awful company?” 
> 
> “What the fuck,” Chaz says.

**Author's Note:**

> "why are you starting another multichap when your main fic isn't finished" because god has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never finished.
> 
> i have some vague ideas for where this is going to go, but it's going to be an adventure :^) feel free to come talk to me on [tumblr](https://fanthings.tumblr.com/), my inbox is always open


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